AN OCTOBER DIARY. 359 



I doubt if, in all nature, there are more exquisite shapes. 

 From the clear sky the meadow-larks give promise of a 

 splendid day, for they are silent as death if it is going 

 to storm — so it is said ; but he is not a wise traveller 

 that has no better barometer. Grass-finches, that had 

 shivered in their weedy caves through the long night, 

 now rejoice at the victory of the rising sun, and sing 

 with increasing ardor as the generous warmth stirs them 

 to action. Bluebirds, in straggling dozens, lined the 

 worm-fences, and a flock — perhaps a thousatid — of red- 

 wings came chattering up against the westerly breeze, 

 and clothed the bare branches of an old apple-tree as 

 with summer's full complement of leaves. 



A half- hour in the early morning works a wonderful 

 change in upland and meadow, and it is not well to be 

 discouraged if, at first, either locality appears deserted. 



The freshness of the day recalled the rabbit-traps of 

 the past winter, and towards evening I hunted them up. 

 In the tangled growth of wild grass in the orchard one 

 was found, and, to my delight, it was occupied by a 

 beautiful white-footed mouse. Her nest was a globular 

 mass of leaves and long grass, as firmly fixed as the nest 

 of a marsh -wren. It was lined with the soft, silky 

 " cotton " of the milk-weed. The pretty creature w^as 

 not alone. Three young mice clung to her teats. These 

 were one third grown and of a dark mouse-color. She 

 was a bright yellow-brown. The white legs and bellies 

 of the young strongly contrasted with the dark color of 

 the sides and back, and had they been found alone their 

 identity would not have been so readily rocogtiized. 



